Arrival to New Orleans

Upon arrival to New Orleans, the atmosphere was entirely different. The train ride was mostly fields; not too much to see. Once the conductor announced, “We have arrived to New Orleans,” I looked out the window to immediately see colorful homes lined next to each other with their own signature balconies and galleries. The train station looked like any other train station. Worn down, plain white concrete and walls. But when walking into the main station, the top part of the walls were covered with colorful paintings. My group and I called an Uber ride to the hotel. We hopped in the Honda Odyssey and took a scenic route to the hotel, sarcastically. The buildings we saw were also simple brick buildings and a few bars here and there.

The lobby of the hotel was striking. I am not too certain how to describe it, but above the concierge counter was what looked like copper barrels holding plants that had back light. The room was just as beautiful. Walking in there was a blue couch to the right with orange accent pillows. Looking straight ahead was the other side of the room with two comfortable, clean looking beds. I chose to take the pull-out couch for the first night, just because. If I don’t like it then I will happily take a bed next time.

To get to the French Quarter for dinner and tours, we took a streetcar. This was actually interesting as it looked like a brand new red trolley. The seats inside were made of wood pallets with red metal. It reminded me of something fancy from the 80s, and maybe that is what they looked like back then. Once we got into the Quarter, it was already getting dark. Many of the shops and restaurants were lit up, creating scenery that one would only see in movies, not in real life.

As we walked the gravel pavement past the St. Louis Cathedral, street performers were setting up or already performing. One performance I was drawn to was a musician. I have no idea what instrument he was playing; it looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. However, when he began playing, it rang my ears and drew me in. I was expecting to hear some jazz or swing, but instead this music sounded alternative; very similar to the music that I listen to every day. I almost wanted to skip out on sight-seeing just so I could keep listening to the smooth rhythm of that mysterious instrument.

We had dinner at the Original Pierre Maspero’s. I was more than excited to eat in general as it felt like my stomach was in knots from how hungry I was. I had a difficult time choosing what to eat. The simple rice dish of jambalaya? The warmth and hominess of chicken and andouille gumbo? The kick of Cajun flavor from crawfish etouffée? Well, why choose one when I can have all three? I ended up getting a platter that included a little of each. Unfortunately, my excitement was short lived as I am in love with my dad’s cooking of these signature dishes, so nothing compares. However, I was not a fan of their gumbo as it seemed very bland with an off taste and the crawfish was so sweet it made my face scrunch up. I ate the entire meal though as I was starving. I am sure that this will be the only bad experience with food here.

From today, I would say I did learn an abundance, but not as much as I am sure we will be learning about in the next few days. I would say that the easiest thing I learned is, “Toto, we’re not in Illinois anymore.” Once I stepped foot onto the ground in this town I could already tell that it was a much different place. I could feel that there was so much more history and much more foundation that this city was built on rather than my own. From the history of New Orleans that I have learned about thus far, I get distracted by that since the town is so beautiful and lively. Everyone is very polite. Once a local found out our group was tourists from up north, they went out of their way to -well, first ask questions about us northerners- make sure that we were enjoying ourselves and making sure we knew why everything was the way it was. It was uplifting to feel accepted into a community that once was, and still is, not respected as equal.

The ghost tour is where I learned the most today. This was our first real deal tourist attraction for the week. Our tour guide was very sweet. She covered every detail there was to know about each building or site that we visited. She threw some jokes in here and there. I thought it was funny that she said at the beginning she doesn’t like being spooked, yet she hosts a ghost tour talking about everything spooky.

Anyway, she spoke of each topic in each location very well, but was also certain to correct us in a way when we spoke about music. When we spoke of jazz and the roaring 20’s, she would explain the music of that time and where it spread. When she would speak of the music traveling north from New Orleans, she would say, “You’re welcome for that.” While some may think that is disrespectful, I thought of it as an intelligent notion. I do not like to have the facts wrong. Perhaps there are people who believe that someplace else created certain music or started a certain musical time period. New Orleans deserves the recognition for the trend that they created and spread to the nation. It made me feel more knowledgeable considering her actions of letting me know where the music came from and why and how it spread across the U.S. the way it did. Though not part of the tour, as we were headed to our last location, a peer asked a question that she felt was not so favorable so she said, “I’m sorry.” The tour guide was quick to the draw to say, ”Don’t apologize. Just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean you have to apologize.” I thought that this was a beautiful statement. It is true that women still have hardships of not being respected to their potential. Hearing this statement was a great end to the night.